


Gunshot Wounds and Web Fluid

by paperowl



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: First Aid, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Peter Parker, Injured Peter Parker, Mild Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Worried Tony Stark, he's kind of an idiot, punctured lung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 10:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24349408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperowl/pseuds/paperowl
Summary: Spider-Man's famous, Peter knows because someone tried to murder him on patrol. And now Peter's stuck with a bullet through the abdomen and a curfew to adhere to, so sneaking into Stark Tower for rudimentary first aid is clearly the best option.
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696663
Comments: 8
Kudos: 202





	Gunshot Wounds and Web Fluid

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting super late at night, but I promise I wrote and had it beta'd (Thanks @itsreallylaterightnow!) when I was more coherent. This is a really fun fic that just wrote itself, I quite enjoy these light one-shots (the banter is so much fun!). Hope y'all enjoy reading almost 2k words of Peter being kind of an idiot
> 
> Written as a fill for the prompts:  
> -Gunshot (Irondad Bingo)  
> -Punctured Lung (Bad Things Happen Bingo )

Spider-Man had reached a new level of fame, and even though Peter was in pain he couldn’t help but be a little happy about it. People only attempt to murder you if you're important, and since somebody had shot him, Peter was famous by default. This time he hadn’t even picked the fight, his spider-sense had barely warned him in time, and he’d turned around to see some dude shooting at him from around a corner. Peter only managed to dodge the first bullet, and now here he was, making his way to Stark Tower because apparently, that was the closest place he could trust not to out him, and to have good first aid supplies.

How he’d ended up near the tower on patrol, he didn’t know, but at least he could easily sneak in; no one was expecting him. He’d grab some medical supplies and painkillers to treat himself, swing home, and hope for the best. That is, if he could even make it to the tower, the gunshot he’d taken to the torso knocked the wind out of him so hard that he couldn’t get it back.

His chest held a familiar tightness, reminiscent of the days when asthma was still something he had to worry about. With the pain of a gunshot to the chest, a graze or two on other limbs, and the inability to get his breath back completely, it was difficult getting to the tower. Peter wasn’t stupid enough to swing (okay, he was, but Karen set him straight), and the walk was not something he ever wished to repeat.

Peter wanted to slip through a window and skip officially entering the building, it would just complicate things if someone came to help. However, the windows that Peter wanted to slip through were over 80 stories above him and 1000 feet up in the air. So Peter settled for a fifth story window instead, and after tumbling through it -less than gracefully- he snuck to the elevator.

The elevator was his only option, Peter hated to admit that the bullet wound was getting to him this much, but climbing over 75 flights of stairs was just impossible, and he did have to make it back before curfew. Peter punched the number for the floor with his room and waited, leaning against the wall of the elevator to catch his breath. After Peter had climbed high enough for FRIDAY to become accessible, the first thing he did was put a gag order on her, the second was to ask where a first aid kit was.

The elevator finally stopped, and Peter was a little dizzy, but he attributed it to the jolt the elevator made, jolting him more than usual. He grabbed the first aid kit from a hall closet and got all the way to his room without running into anyone else. Peter closed the door and shucked out of the spider-suit, grabbing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, it was a chilly night, and the blood soaking his suit hadn’t helped insulate him at all.

Peter slipped into the warm clothes and shivered, glad he wasn’t freezing anymore. He walked to the bathroom and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall and pausing for a breather before he did anything else. He'd sprayed web fluid over the wounds, and it seemed for the most part to have staunched the blood flow, though he’d noticed it was starting to leak through the webbing when he pulled the sweatshirt on.

Peter decided to work on the grazes first because once they were cleaned he could forget about them and leave them to heal. Peter pulled his left leg towards himself and laid it across his right leg at the knee. The graze was on his calf, so now that his calf was mostly perpendicular to everything else Peter had a good view. He rolled up his sweatpants and grabbed an antiseptic wipe, hissing as he ran it over the cut.

“Hi Peter,” A voice said from the doorway, making Peter jump and drop the wipe.

“Oh, hi Mr. Stark,” Peter said, turning to look up at him.

“Mind telling me why you’re here? And not home?” Tony said.

Peter flushed a bit, and shrugged, “Here was closer, and I was cold. Also, you know, first aid,” Peter said, gesturing to his exposed leg. “I was going to clean up, get warm, and then head back to May’s before curfew, I swear.”

“Mhmm,” Tony said, “Can I check that leg?”

“Uh, sure,” Peter said, straightening it out and resting his foot atop the toilet in front of him. Tony took a few steps forward and crouched down, examining it. 

“Bullet graze?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Peter said, leaning his head back against the wall and taking a deep breath.

Tony’s head snapped up and his eyes narrowed a bit, “Was that a wheeze?”

“What? No, I’m fine.” Peter protested, and maybe he had heard a tiny wheeze, but he used to have asthma, this was nothing.

“Alright then,” Tony said, and Peter could tell he didn’t believe a word. “Since I’ve blown your cover, how about you come to the kitchen for hot chocolate before you go back to May’s.”

“Okay,” Peter said, skeptical about Tony’s lack of prying. Peter pulled down his pant leg and stood up, following Tony. His head spun, and he was a little more breathless than he had been before, but it was just a rush of blood because he stood up too quickly. Or at least, Peter thought that for a few steps, until he started wheezing quietly again before he’d even made it out of the bedroom.

Peter made it most of the way down the hall, only because he was running a hand along the wall, ready to catch himself on his increasingly unsteady legs. He wasn’t going to lie, his chest ached terribly, but if he told Tony and Tony freaked out on him, he wouldn’t hear the end of it, it was an unnecessary thing to fuss over.

Of course Tony took this moment to look back at Peter, “You sure that wasn’t a wheeze? Because I think I just heard another one.” 

“Yep,” Peter said with forced surety as he stumbled and barely caught himself on the wall.

Tony narrowed his eyes, and turned back towards Peter, crossing his arms, “Well that instills me with confidence.” Tony pointed towards the light of the kitchen, which was much closer than Peter realized. “Go take a seat in the kitchen, I’m grabbing the first aid kit, I think we’ll need it.”

Peter reluctantly obeyed, and right as he was hopping onto a barstool Tony walked up to him with the kit. “Okay kid, I’m giving you one more chance to tell the truth, and I’d heavily consider it with that nice new bloodstain you’re sporting.”

Peter glanced down to see, sure enough, there was a stain on the front of the sweatshirt, because of course Peter had picked a gray one. “Uh, I’m fine. That- that’s. I must have smeared some blood on it by accident.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “That’s your story kid?” he shook his head, “And I thought you were smart.”

“Hey!”

“Cut the crap kid and show me, what really happened?” Tony said, placing the first aid kit on the counter and waiting.

Peter sighed with another wheeze and lifted the sweatshirt. Tony screwed up his face a little, looking confused at the sight in front of him.

“I covered it with web fluid, to stop the bleeding,” Peter said, risking a glance down at a bloodier mess than expected.

Tony nodded, “That, at least, was smart. Now what is ‘it’?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair and looked back up at Tony sheepishly, “A bullet wound?”

Tony did his best to act restrained, but he couldn’t hide the instant flash of shock that ran across his face or the way he went a little white. “A what?”

Peter grimaced, “A bullet wound.”

“So let me get this straight. You got shot in the _abdomen_ and didn’t think to alert anyone?”

“I mean, I did think about it.” Peter said, “It’s kinda hard to swing around, hurts pretty badly.”

“No shit, kid.” Tony scrubbed a hand across his face, “You do understand that the more you talk the less I believe you’re actually smart.” Tony sighed, shaking his head, “FRIDAY? Injury report, Peter Parker”

“Peter has two shallow wounds, likely grazes from bullets, one on his left calf, and one on the right side of his ribcage. He has a gunshot wound through the abdomen, the bullet passed through his body, and the small intestine, spleen, kidney, and stomach have slight tissue damage. He also has a small puncture in his left lung, and based upon his breathing patterns oxygen assistance is advised.”

“See, there’s a reason you tell people about a gunshot wound, it damages things. You’re enhanced, not invincible, so stop acting like it.” Tony said sternly.

Peter nodded quietly, shrinking into himself a bit.

“Now come on, let me have a look. FRIDAY? Get Bruce up here.” Tony grabbed a couple of pieces of gauze and handed one to Peter, “Put pressure on that one,” Tony said, pointing to the wound on Peter’s stomach. Peter obeyed and Tony walked around him to the back, lifting the sweatshirt and doing the same to the exit wound.

“Such a fun bonding exercise,” Peter said shakily, pressing as hard as he could.

Tony snorted, “Yes, I’m learning so much about you. Like how terrible you are at self-preservation.”

“I thought you already knew that.” Peter shot back.

Tony just huffed. He and Peter continued pressing on the wounds for what felt like an hour. Finally Bruce walked into the room and sighed, “This is a sight to see at..” Bruce scanned for a clock, “one a.m.”

“Agreed,” Tony said.

“You got lucky,” Bruce said, walking over to Peter and setting his case of equipment next to the first aid kit. He eased Peter’s hands away from the wound to look at it, “FRIDAY said you only need stitches and oxygen for the night. I don’t know whether that’s due to your advanced healing cleaning everything up before you got here, or if you were just very incredibly lucky.”

Peter nodded, and Tony hummed behind him, probably in agreement with Bruce. After a scramble on Tony’s part they got something to dissolve the web fluid, Bruce got to work cleaning and stitching up the holes. Peter took it without any anesthetic, because it was "an urgent matter", and a local numbing agent that they knew would work for Peter’s weird enhancements wasn’t exactly number one on the avengers r&d list.

Bruce finished much faster than Peter thought he would, and once Peter had an oxygen tube shoved up his nose he was done for the night. Peter settled against the couch cushions- Tony and Bruce had made him move- and yawned. 

“So I know that I’m an idiot, but contrary to popular belief I’m not stupid enough to try to go back to May’s now,” Peter said.

“Good. Because I wouldn’t let you.” Tony said, “Now head to bed, I’ll take the call, if May murders me, know it was your fault.” Tony said, pointing at Peter. And Peter chuckled, easing off the couch and heading to his room, listening to Bruce and Tony whisper about needing to hire a babysitter for next time. Peter smiled to himself, as if there would be such a thing as "next time".

**Author's Note:**

> This is a version of one of my favorite tropes: "no, I'm fine I swear" as they're dripping blood/dramatically falling over/clearly injured. It's also the perfect formula to writing Peter, that's his personality.
> 
> Join me on tumblr for sporadic writing updates: @[papered-owl](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/papered-owl)


End file.
